The sun glared down with contempt at the blue and white banners surrounding a tattered wooden tower in the Northern Barrens. Lieutenant Edon pulled his helmet off and shook out his sandy hair while the rest of his platoon assumed formation around the enemy stronghold. He held up his hand to signal the men to take up defensive positions, but none of them seemed eager to charge inside the rickety watchtower that could barely provide a decent patch of shade. The idea didn’t fill Edon with bravado either. He and his men had been running down this Darkspear witch for days, and chances were good she was as tired they were- but she was also cornered. Edon was a young man, like most of the enlistees assigned to forays in the Barrens nowadays, energetic as any of his fellow soldiers, but all the vim and vigor in their company would think twice before charging in after a desperate sorceress.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true, thought Edon gumly. That kind of lack of foresight was probably what cost Sergeant Nyles and his men their lives back when this hunt began. Most of the men saw Edon too dull and pessimistic compared to some of the other soldiers, but if it saved his skin while the other hotheads wanted to get themselves in hot water, he figured, they could call him a grump all they wanted.
Nysea appeared beside Edon without a sound, and he would have jumped if he hadn’t become accustomed to the skill of their Kaldorei allies. The elven huntresses had begun accompanying Alliance foraging parties in earnest ever since a surge of activity among the gnoll tribes made discrete scouting parties an imperative. Their aid was welcome, but how quickly these green-haired barefooted forest people took to the savannahs was almost unnerving.
“Do you plan to storm this place, Lieutenant?” she inquired. Edon tried not to wince at tinge of condescension he heard. It peppered everything they said, but the Kaldorei seemed generally friendly enough that Edon was starting to think they weren’t even aware of it.
“No,” he replied in a dolorous tone, “I don’t want to take chances with this one.” He rubbed at the dirt on his face’s stubble. Edon had a long face that was given to producing a five o’clock shadow by noon. It probably didn’t help his dour image. “Your own trackers couldn’t find a trace of Nyles and his men when they ran into her. If the witch can make whatever-happened-to-them happen, we’re using caution. Are the rest of your scouts far by now?”
Nysea looked back in the direction from which they had come. She was the only one of the Kaldorei who had accompanied the otherwise homogeneous soldiers. The rest of the elves had gone around the hill towards the river, in case the witch had tried to make a beeline for Horde lands too hot to enter.
“Yes, but we move quickly. I can recall them in little time.” She crouched in the grass, peering up at the tower appraisingly. She was almost the perfect contrast to Edon. Where he was fair and sunburned, Nysea was a shade of violet that the oppressive sun rays didn’t seem to know what to do with. He wore white cloth under his Alliance colors to better handle the heat, but the elf wore the same assortment of sparse bark-coloured armor and feathers she might have worn back home. Edon had been forced to put on thicker boots and gloves to avoid getting torn apart by the bramble the Barrens bore so fruitfully, but the tall Kaldorei’s arms and legs went unfettered, and most of her company looked none the worse for it. Edon often found himself worrying that her eyebrows would get caught on something, but he didn’t think it polite to bring the issue up.
While the elves possessed an alien sort of beauty, Edon didn’t often catch himself gazing at Nysea or her fellow huntresses with the fleeting passion of human youth. Other than looking like kind of a bummer, he thought himself a decent-looking fellow. Straw coloured hair, freckled face, kept himself in good shape, all that nonsense. Maybe it was just the gaudy expectation that a young soldier boy like him would fall a-doting on an exotic beauty with toned, exposed legs and piercing eyes that kept him at bay. That, or having watched his men try their luck with them brazenly, as if these eternally youthful warrior women had nothing better to do than be swept off their feet by short, sweaty humans with a hypermasculinity complex. Maybe Edon just asked for less out of life than towering violet lovers with peculiar dressing habits.
“She is not alone here,” Nysea remarked, snapping Edon out of his musing. “There are more tracks here than those of an unshod troll. Here, see? A heavy boot print, uneven enough to be running. Maybe an orc. And not far beside, there’s a set with a less athletic gait, looks almost like a...a hobbling trot, or something, I am unsure.”
Nysea made a face. “Possibly. The habits of those creatures are so unnatural that even their tracks seem artificial. Predictible.”
Edon murmured a vague agreement. “If they’re holed up in there together, they might be less prone to doing something rash. But if there’s a goblin in there, they might have the technology to be calling for reinforcements, though.” He gave the tower a consternated look before turning back to Nysea, who stood upright, her elegant bow sitting comfortably in her hand.
“Still, three cornered rats are no less dangerous. Find your scouts and bring them back here, we’ll use their arrows to take care of this without a mess. We’ll hold this position. If they’re as worn out by this chase as we are, we have some time before they try to set foot out of that tower.”
With a nod, Nysea was gone, her long legs carrying her swiftly across the golden grasses that seemed to barely notice her passing. Edon looked after her a moments before staring back up at the lonely tower on the hill. With a prickle running up the back of his neck, he wondered with the rest of the men around the tower just what sort of power they were guarding.
Ozgra watched the shaman Thanjwe draw her finger across the floor of the tower, adding another arc of yellow ink to the broad inscription around her feet. Zikka crouched at the edge of the room. The shaman had hardly spoken a word since the three of them had taken refuge in the abandoned watchtower. Ozgra folded her arms with a deep frown as she watched the shaman do her work.
Ozgra was a warrior. She liked things simple. For an orc like her, an axe and a little moxie went just about as far as she needed to go. She fingered the weapon hanging at her belt affectionately.
“The idiots outside are exhausted, running in all that metal. Give me four, five minutes tops and I’ll have it taken care of.”
Thanjwe stood up slowly, as if worried she might disturb the intricate sigil she had just finished inscribing. It was a downright unnatural looking thing, Ozgra thought, full of odd curves in directions she didn’t really think could happen on a flat surface, and the ink she used smelled like...like rock, just after you struck ore from it. She watched the troll survey her handiwork with a grim look of satisfaction. Thanjwe certainly stood out to most Barrens natives. She was a forest troll from such-and-such tribe, just under seven feet tall. Her shock of moss-green hair spilled down to a point between her shoulder blades, but beyond that, she was remarkably unadorned for a shaman. There was no ring on her nose, no painting on the tusks that jutted out from her mouth. Brown rags covered her chest, but her broad shoulders and toned midriff were bare. A long loincloth rested around her hips, its waist plunging into a V just above that bit between the legs trolls liked to exercise so much. The cloth followed her ample legs down to the shins, which themselves ended in broad, bare feet. Ozgra was used to seeing such witch doctors covered head to heel in charms, but the only such ornament on Thanjwe was a tiny fetish hanging by a rope around her ankle. She couldn’t be over thirty, but her eyes held a sort of quiet cruelty you only saw in bitter elders. She gave Ozgra the creeps.
“We have time,” mused the troll in that deep, soft voice that could make the trees look away. “Me magic is no tied down to a tower. I could have us outta here like that,” she waved her hand, “but I got business wit dese men.” She cast a scornful look toward the entrance to the watchtower. Ozgra could hear the humans bustling about outside. “Dey waitin’ on something. Been chasing me three days, now they wanna keep a girl waiting?” The witch doctor gave a hollow laugh.
“Been chasing a Darkspear for three days,” added Ozgra, “Alliance is blind this far up in the Barrens, I’m impressed they tracked you this far. It’s the damn elves.”
Thanjwe cackled. “Darkspear! Ignorant pigs! Sure, I got chased here from Echo Isles ‘cause I thought I saw a murloc’s shadow.” Ozgra noticed the ink was starting to darken on the cracked wood as the troll knelt down to stroke it carefully. “Dey think I some island girl dey can chase around like a scared moa? De Amani got magic dat was strong before Darkspear knew how ta swim.” She stood again, and a chill ran up Ozgra’s spine again. The troll had a sort of energy to her movements now, a restrained excitement. She knew the look from personal experience. Any self-respecting orc felt that rush before going into battle. This, though, was a subtler kind of energy that made her uneasy. Ozgra watched the troll place her feet atop two little swirls in the inscription and look over at the goblin hunched in the corner.
“Zikka! Quit playin’ wit ja toy and come here, I needju for dis part.”
Ozgra had almost forgotten the goblin. The two had been together when Ozgra was sent to find the witch, so she guessed the goblin was some kind of assistant. Zikka looked up from whatever she was hunched over and sighed, standing up. Ozgra noticed something small under the goblin, and watched her raise a sandaled foot over it. She thought she heard a chirp before Zikka ground her foot on whatever it was before shuffling over to the center of the circle with Thanjwe.
“It was gettin’ boring over there anyway, they stop kickin’ after a while,” the goblin mused in the tone of a child playing with an ant hill. Zikka surveyed the circle with a quirked eyebrow. “This one looks different from the first one ya used.”
“Dis time different,” replied Thanjwe flatly. “Last time dey were asleep, and dere was less of ‘em. Now dere a whole swarm of ‘em, an’ dey buzzin’ around like gnats.” Ozgra watched the troll put a hand on Zikka’s shoulder. “So we need strongah magic.”
Ozgra didn’t see where the knife came from, but in a blink Zikka’s mouth was agape as a curtain of red flowed from an open throat. Thanjwe backed out of the circle more swiftly than Ozgra thought she could manage as the goblin crumpled to the floor, and the blood pooled around her. The sigil drank it. The orc had forgotten her weapon, transfixed by the now iridescent light flowing around the circle as the goblin grew paler.
“Dis an old spell,” purred Thanjwe, “and old spells call for blood. Goes all da way back to an Amani queen whose husband was no good. Couldn’t give her no children.” The witch replaced her knife, and Ozgra noticed how clean it looked. “Da court blamed da queen, so she taught ‘em a lesson. Used one of her slaves to pull this numbah here. Dey weren’t a problem afta dat.” The golden glow grew brighter, but the room only seemed darker to Ozgra, who was now convinced that she could not kill this witch even if she had the will to try. There was a sound like the popping of ears, and the light shot into the floor. Ozgra heard a ringing in her head. The circle, the light, the blood, and the body were gone. All that remained in the tower were Thanjwe and Ozgra.
“W...what? Did it work? What did you do?” barked Ozgra, snapping out of her trance. Thanjwe only smiled with a positively erotic life to her beady eyes.
“We can go now. De humans be no problem any more.” She must have sensed Ozgra’s incredulous stare and grinned at her with a sidelong look. “Dey still dere, don’tchu worry. Follow Thanjwe, we go meet our friends outside.” Ozgra hesitated a moment, glancing back at the little red stain where Zikka had been crouched earlier, but followed the troll’s swaying gait outside, axe at the ready.
Edon’s vision was slow to come back to him. He was on his back. As his eyes opened reluctantly, the sun glared back down at him, and he shut them again with a grimace. He struggled to remember what happened. He pictured a blinding light from...the sky? No, tower. Then it was dark, he stumbled, and...wait, tower?
In a flood of memory that made his mouth go dry, the witch hunt, the watchtower, and the platoon came surging back to memory- they must have been attacked! Damn it, why didn’t they attack first? His hand jerked to his side for his sword…
...and instead he got a handful of his own naked hip. His eyes popped open now and he sat up, then gave a yelp. His sword, his armour, all of his clothes, gone! Edon sat naked as the day he was born, completely unarmed. Panic was starting to set in now. Had they been captured and stripped? Where were the others? He lept to his feet, then immediately fell back to the ground in a daze from the blood rush.
The sight that returned to him was not comforting. Directly in front of him was an impossibly thin forest of tall golden shoots. Each one rose above his head, and they grew taller in some patches. Edon had a headache by now. Had they been stripped and left for dead? Why were there no other prisoners nearby? Where are the guards? Edon stared down at the remarkably coarse dirt under his feet. Maybe it was worse than he imagined, and he alone was ditched in some strange forest while the rest of his platoon was subjected to whatever had ambushed them.
Then Edon turned around, and his heart skipped a beat.
Looming behind him was a breastplate the size of a castle, and under it a sea of leather armour and cloth that could clothe Stormwind. He narrowed his eyes, and the Alliance emblems, blown grossly out of proportion, came into focus. His throat went dry again. He was looking at his own armour. Breathing in quick, short breaths, he looked past his armour at the golden forest in a new light as realization washed over him like icy water. The darkness from his first awakening was the interior of his own armour. He had stumbled out into the grass, precisely where he had been standing before. Seargent Edon could be no more than half an inch tall.
Adrenaline rushed through his limbs. The ambush wasn’t long past- it was still in progress, and he was standing beside a gigantic shining place marker to show off his location. No time to think yet. Edon sprinted straight away from his pile of armour into the grass sea. Sweat poured down his forehead, but he scarcely noticed it. In fact, it was rather cool in the grass, perhaps from the shade the tall blades provided. Thankfully, some patches of it were thicker than others. Darting out into grass that only came up to his waist would have been worse than staying near his armour. “. . . couldn’t find a trace of Nyles and his men when they ran into her.” Edon’s own words rang in his head as he ran, dread contorting his face into a grimace. “She shrank them,” he panted to himself, finally losing momentum, “the witch shrank them. Light help us, we fell for the same curse.” He came to a jogging stop outside a particularly tall patch of grass, and he turned his head up. If he kept running, he didn’t stand a chance. He would tire himself out even more, and even if the troll didn’t find him (the thought sent a chill up his neck), the Barrens were filled with beasts. If the drought didn’t get him, a wandering hyena might, or he could be trampled by a careless moa flock. He didn’t even want to think of what would become of him if a gnoll wrapped its filthy paws around him. Edon pushed his damp hair out of his eyes. He had to find the others. And to do that, he needed a vantage point.
He plunged into the tall grass, taking care to mind his vulnerable bits. During the run, he had almost forgotten that his manhood was exposed and free, but he became acutely aware of the fact as he delicately pushed his way through the thicket of brush, so deeply engrossed in the march that he was only vaguely aware of a distant thumping sound growing louder. Progress was slow, and more than once he found himself sorely missing the sword that was now too large for a score of Edons to lift. When he came upon a bramble vine that rose above the grass, he thought it better to use this first one than waste more energy. No sooner had he taken a step towards the vine than he realized the broad shadow over the patch.
Edon looked up in time to see the sky blocked out by a troll’s foot wide enough to cover a barn. The gargantuan green sole was monolithic, the calloused yet smooth look of a foot that had long been walked on unshod. Petrified, Edon had to shield his eyes from the sparse rain of dirt that fell from the sole as it wrinkled and relaxed in descent. Between two colossal toes, Edon caught a glimpse of the uncaring foot’s owner, undoubtedly the troll witch they had been sent to hunt. Her eyes, though, were not focused on him. That didn’t change the path of her foot’s descent, though. The world grew darker as a landscape of troll hurdled towards him, and Edon dove.
Thanjwe didn’t feel the dry brambles crunch under her thick soles as she strode through the grass. Rather, she felt them there, but they couldn’t hurt her. Nothing so small ever could. Her thick lips curled into a smile as she remembered the young human from the last group of them who had come after her with a makeshift spear fashioned out of a splinter. She had laughed at him while he tried to plunge the thing into her heel. She remembered toying with that one for a while before he collapsed from exhaustion. She had sealed him in one of her herb pouches for later.
She loved the first few strides out into a field after casting the shrinking hex. There was something exhilarating about it that she struggled to describe. Sure, Thanjwe did her share of ‘the basics’ when it came to witch doctoring. Some luck charms here, poisons there, she was no novice. But discovering the hex that could reduce the mightiest men to the height of a bug? Her stomach had fluttered at it the first time she learned it, but when she found herself looming over a hapless dranei for the first time, able to do whatever she pleased with the formerly imposing warrior...it gave her a very special kind of pleasure. As she walked through the grass, she pictured the scene going on under her feet. Bewildered men, once arrogantly pursuing her through the savannah, now fleeing as her two feet came crashing down on their world. The best part was resisting the urge to look down, not knowing yet whether her simple act of walking had brought a visceral end to the tiny lives in the grass. The thought excited her. Thanjwe found her hand drifting across her thigh as she came to a pause near an empty pile of armour, and her fingers slid dangerously near the coarse forest of hair where her legs met…
The orc trundling out behind her broke her fantasy. She snatched her hand away from her loincloth, but she smiled maliciously nonetheless. The great brute of a woman still didn’t realize what had happened. Her eyes followed the great fur boots that trudged across the ground towards her, and she bit her lip at the thought of what the orcess might be trampling unawares beneath those powerful legs.
“What’s got you so happy? What happened to the humans?” Ozgra stopped a few feet from Thanjwe, giving the land around them a quick scan before poking at a pile of clothes and leather armour with one foot. Thanjwe nodded at the pile of clothes with a knowing grin.
“Don’tchu worry. Dey not goin’ anywhere. Take a look.”
Puzzled, Ozgra knitted her brow and looked down where Thanjwe was pointing at the Alliance armour. Something inside had been disturbed by her prodding. Arching a brow, she tapped a moving lump in the sleeve with her foot. A moment later, the orc’s jaw went slack. A miniscule naked man had raced out of the end of the sleeve.
“What in the name of…?!” Ozgra stepped back as the little redhaired man fled from her in terror. Her beady orc eyes darted between the armour and the man, the gears of her mind creaking to life before she made the connection. “Where did you get such sorcery?!”
The little man was running full sprint, but scarcely made it a foot away before he was confronted by the pillar of Thanjwe’s leg. She had stepped down just in front of him, missing the human by a hair. He collided with the front of her toe and fell flat on his back, staring up at the towering troll and desperately scrambling backwards. Thanjwe put her hands on her hips.
“Well well, looks like da brave Alliance don’ wanna tussel with us, ha!” She squatted down slowly and moved her face in close to the little man, grinning smugly, each tooth larger than the human. “Dis one cute, Ozgra! Got a real handsome face for bein’ so scared.” Her breath washed over the shrunken man, who did his darnedest to get back even further. Thanjwe scrunched her full green lips into a pout, leaning in even closer to the terrified human. “Aww, wha’sa matter, little squirt? You dun think Thanjwe pretty?”
Ozgra was flabbergasted. The troll seemed like an entirely different person, like she had a new energy to her she hadn’t seen before. The look she was giving the tiny man was...almost erotic. The orc grimaced. Was that how the forest trolls got off? Toying with the weak?
“I tink he need a little convincin’ to be friendly with ol’ Thanjwe. Maybe I need ta gedda taste of him,” said the witch in a voice positively dripping with desire. When she licked her lips, the redhead nearly fainted. The troll let the great green tongue unfurl from her mouth, bringing it terrifyingly near the human’s nigh microscopic manhood.
An instant before it made contact, another shrunken man burst from the brush! This one had raven hair and a beard, and the fiery glow of a spell shot from his hand and up into the troll’s face. Thanjwe was clearly taken aback by the dumbfounded look on her features.
The fireball sizzled unceremoniously on the troll’s cheek.
Thanjwe gave a deep, throaty chuckle at the would-be rescuer, who gave the redhead an apologetic look. “My my,” boomed the troll, “I see I gotta ‘nother eager little fan!” Delighted, Thanjwe reached out with a colossal hand and snatched up the dark haired stranger as easily as she might have grabbed a beetle between two fingers. She stood up slowly, inspiring a yelp from her new captive, who she now dangled by a leg in front of her face. Ozgra saw a look in the troll’s eyes that gave even her chills. The troll looked back down at the redhead.
“Sorry buddy, ju got replaced.” Ozgra heard a scream from below as Thanjwe lifted her foot just slightly and moved it over the man.
Thanjwe paused and looked up. Ozgra didn’t know what had made the word come from her, and mouthed silently to grope for an elaboration. Thanjwe only smiled. Got her. “Okey dokey den,” she purred, slowly removing her foot to reveal a petrified but intact little man in the dirt. “Ju been a big help dis whole time,” she lied, “I suppose I otta let you have ya fun too.” Still holding the black bearded victim, the troll stepped around the redhead to sidle up next to Ozgra. As the witch doctor touched the side of her face affectionately, the orc never even felt the charm touch her mind. “Ju enjoy yaself wit him, ya?”
Ozgra just nodded absently. Her gaze was transfixed on the little man below, like someone staring into an anthill too long. The human had apparently forgotten about Ozgra until now, having scooted back to be almost right between her longhouse-sized feet again. The orc decided to crouch.
The little redhead’s eyes widened in fear as the orc’s monumental feet bent and her crotch came hurdling towards him. The musty smell of orc hit him like a sack of bricks as her face and braided black hair blocked out the sun. Ozgra wondered what he was thinking, but not for very long. She felt...kind of weird. She became acutely aware that she was all the little man could see right now, she with her muscular legs, strong arms, hands that could erase him. She stuck her hand out and held it over him, making a cage of green flesh as easily as she might have trapped an ant. Damn it, why did she feel so funny? She found herself closing her fingers around the man and scooping him into her open palm. Her face didn’t show much intelligence as she looked down at the little man who was entirely in her power, but her expression betrayed a certain...stirring. The human could only cower as he watched the dull face of the colossal brute who held his life shift from a curious face to one of undoubtable, simple lust.
Thanjwe licked her lips. Aphrodesiac charms were parlor tricks compared to what she usually toted, but there was a sort of primal simplicity to the orc that...well, the thought of exploiting it made her shift her legs about quite comfortably. The mage in her hand had no more power than the fellow in the orc’s, only able to look on in despair.
Ozgra sat back with a thud. Dust rose up around her as she poked at the little man in her palm. She leaned her face in, engulfing his view, and gave him a hard sniff. “He’s afraid. Heh,” she muttered, half to herself. Why was she all bothered downstairs? The man gave a yelp as he saw the orc reach for her own loincloth to scratch herself. The fear put Ozgra over the edge. She gave a glance around her- the troll was there, sure, but she would be ashamed of any other witnesses who didn’t feel the power she felt in her hands now. Looking back down at her victim, Ozgra licked her lips, and the man’s knees gave out.
Slowly, her open palm became a gentle but firm grip on the human. He knew what was about to happen, but she wasn’t taking any chances. Her free hand tugged her loincloth down just enough to expose the thick bush of black tangles that covered the orcess’ mound. The human could see the shine of wetness down there. Ozgra felt a touch of drool coming out the side of her maw as she moved the man towards her unkempt pussy, stroking it with her free hand. She paused a moment to toy with the man in one hand, forcing him to fall to one side or the other of her palm while she touched herself, lustful, beastial stare boring into him. She could stand it no longer. Dangling the unfortunate man between two fingers, Ozgra took a breath and shoved him into her folds.
A ripple of pleasure washed up over the orc’s body, making her shudder with a deep, releasing groan as she pressed the man against her clit, massaging him between her privates and her fingers, slowly at first. She closed her eyes and let her head roll backward. How long she’d been out in this damn wasteland! No time out here to get a good tumble with any of the other soldiers. Besides, those lunkheads would always try their domineering super-male attitude out on her. This little guy, though? This she could control. And fuck, he felt good! The little man was drenched in her fluids by now, thrashing his arms in a pitifully vain attempt to keep the titaness from sliding him up her clit and facefirst into the tangle of wiry black hair. Green folds half buried him as she toyed with him.
“Unh. Uuuh. Unnh! Yeah! Fuck, keep struggling you little shit, oh fuck I haven’t felt this good in weeks!” The orcish urging fell on uncomprehending ears, but he continued to grab at her fingers, trying to pull himself away from this musky hell. Her motions became more vigorous as her pelvis tensed and writhed. She felt the swelling of ecstasy like an arcing wave building up in her loins, and she let out a moan of euphoria as she neared climax…
Then she stopped. With an angry grunt, she looked down at her groin. The little man had stopped thrashing. Ozgra held him up, and he just hung limply from her fingers, dripping from his time in her cunny. “Weak,” she growled, furious that the shrimp had passed out before she could finish. He might even be dead, but Ozgra didn’t really care. Standing to her feet, cunt still sopping wet, she tossed the limp body aside into the grass and stepped towards Thanjwe, who had been surveying her handiwork with a smug, sanguine satisfaction. The mage in the troll’s hand screamed as he saw Ozgra’s great calloused hand reaching out for him.
Edon stifled a groan of pain as the unconscious redhead bowled him over, and the two tumbled from Edon’s perch to the dirt. This couldn’t be happening. This can’t be real. Orcish vaginal fluids now smeared across the front of his body, Edon shoved his incapacitated quartermaster back and shuddered.
His life had flashed before his eyes when the troll’s foot had come down. All light had been blocked out by it as it fell, but whatever cruel agent of fate was toying with him didn’t seem to be finished yet. The witch’s foot came down on him at the crease right where her toe met the ball of her foot. It crushed the bramble he was standing under and flattened him with it, and for a moment the warmth of the smooth, weathered sole compressed him to the point that he felt one of his legs fracture. The next instant, the pressure left, and Edon found himself still alive...and utterly powerless to stop what happened next. The troll had crushed bramble underfoot, but not permanently- it sprang back up into place at a wider angle, thanks to the troll’s trampling. He had fought back the throbbing pain of his leg and forced himself atop it. From there, the entirety of the scene played out before his horror-stricken eyes.
The troll was toying with them! Worse than ending their lives like the enemies they were, she was turning their bodies into playthings more helpless than an insect. Though he spoke no orcish, even he could see the sickening arousal in the body movements of the colossi, perhaps to a greater degree at his size. They were become sex toys, only good to be used until spent.
Poor Gerrol was more than spent. The young man, whose hair was redder than Ragnaros’ butthole, lay unceremoniously in the dirt near Edon as the lieutenant gritted his teeth at the pain in his leg. His heart only dropped again when he heard the orc titaness resume her lustful terror with the platoon’s mage Tyllen.
Tyllen had always been a bold man, from the command he naturally assumed among his fellow men to the women he flirted with brashly in taverns. Now those women could use him to flavor the drinks he bought them. Edon looked up at the orc mountain that rose in the distance, her face contorted into one of pure lecherous ravishment. Tyllen’s first attack on the troll had been a foolish one, if noble, and even now from his vantage point he could see wisps of mage-flame begin to fly up from the orc’s nether regions.
That was a mistake.
As the mage’s fizzling attempts to defend himself dissolved into smoke in the air, Edon saw the orc’s eyes spring open and her knees jerk up violently. Damn that fool, the fire had excited her! Then he heard the telltale sound of a Blink...but not in the right direction. Tyllen had shot into the orc’s cunt, and that sent her over the brink of orgasm. The ground shook as the giantess’ whole body was seized in the spasmodic thrashing of orgasm. The smell of her sex already hung in the air, but now it almost overpowered Edon as he tried to drag Gerrol’s unconscious body to safety, if such a thing even existed beneath the feet of these titanesses.
The orc’s orgasms continued for some time, and the sound of the troll’s laugh rang out as the orc gripped the dirt and pressed poor Tyllen deep into her sex. As the orc’s euphoric jerking began to slow, even Edon found himself ashamedly admiring the look of blissful satisfaction that crossed her face. Unable to keep watching, the lieutenant hung his head and looked down at Gerrol, who was just starting to stir. But even if the threat of the orc’s violent lust was abated, Edon could not restrain the dreaded wonder of what would come next.
Thanjwe planted her hands on her hips, leaning forward and giving Ozgra a skeevy smile. “I dinnah’ think many orcs were inta humans,” she teased, stepping forward to crouch down and peer into Ozgra’s sex as the orc lay on her back, panting. The orc’s lustful countenance washed away as the charm lost its effect, and Thanjwe bit back a grin at the utter shame surfacing in Ozgra’s cheeks.
“What...in the name of…? I…” The orcess gasped, a few twitches of the thigh interrupting her as her body’s euphoric contraction slowed to a halt. Thanjwe only laughed.
“Dat’ll do it to ya- the power! Dis mojo ain’t like any oddah.” Gently, the troll ran a thick finger down the orc’s exposed thigh. Ozgra shuddered at the sensation, but made no resistance as the hand drifted towards the lower lips. She almost raised a hand to protest, but by the time she did Thanjwe’s fingers were already rooting through her vagina. Ozgra simply bit her lip and grasped a patch of grass.
“Aint’t a shrink ray eithah, dey don’t come back from dis,” she murmured while searching deeper through the moss green folds of the she-warrior’s sex. Ozgra drew a sharp breath as the troll’s fingers closed around something. Beaming triumphantly, Thanjwe drew her hand out, doused in the orcess’s pleasure. Between her finger and thumb was the mage, gasping for air as he clutched at the chipped thumbnail of the witch. She leaned in, straddling Ozgra and dangling the little man over her eyes. “Ya get used to havin’ anothah life atcha fingertips. Ya make toys outta the dopes that t’ought dey better dan you. I’ great!” She swirled the mage in the air a little while Ozgra’s amber eyes followed before snatching him back. “But dat’s not for you- only us wit’ da good magic.”
Cackling in her own superiority, the troll tilted her head back and dangled the cum-soaked mage over her face. He barely mustered the energy to gaze into the uncaring eyes below, and he was powerless to stop those great thick lips from parting, a greedy lime-green tongue spilling out to take him in as his tormentor lowered him down. Thanjwe lathered him in her tongue, and the taste of his fear mingled with the orc’s sex was sweet. A moment later, the mage was out of sight as Thanjwe rolled him around in her mouth. A lump descended her throat, and the witch purred in satisfaction while standing back to her feet.
The troll was wet. She shuddered as she ran a hand along her thigh, peering around at the grass. She was vaguely aware of the orc looking up at her incredulously. That lust-crazed simpleton might settle down now that Thanjwe had hurried along her ‘relaxation’. Now it was her turn to play.
Edon had to hold Gerrol’s mouth shut as the shadow of the troll engulfed them. The witch crouched mere inches from where they hid in the brush- the ball of her foot was the width of two houses, and the rest of the extremity towered over them. Like a great green wall, the troll’s foot consumed their field of vision, every detail of its sole held moments from what could easily be their deaths. The heel - the peak of the monument - supported the woman’s ample butt, which spilled over the top of it lazily. Her loincloth hardly covered her nether regions, and from their vantage, the two humans were exposed to a disturbingly slick pussy beyond the buttocks. The orc’s orgasm had been terrifying enough, but Edon had to hold back his own cry of terror as he watched the witch devour poor Tyllen like a strip of meat.
Then the troll decided to stand.
This time the both of them screamed. They had been too petrified to move before, at risk of alerting their tormentors, but now the troll’s bare foot was descending on them as she stood upright. Edon felt adrenaline coursing through his bruised body as he hauled Gerrol in the opposite direction. The broken man was slowing them down, and there was nothing he could do about it. Gerrol struggled to help in their flight, but his clumsy tripping only hindered Edon as they tried to outrun the range of the savage’s sole.
“Hold on to my hand, damnit, you can deal with the pain later!”
Edon was no longer aware of how close to the ground the sole grew- how was it that time seemed to crawl by as they sprinted? Did she know they were there, and only wanted to prolong their fear?
A moment later, Edon got his answer, and his heart dropped in his chest. He no longer felt Gerrol’s hand in his own, and a gust of wind blew from behind him. He staggered to a halt, wincing at the pain in his leg, and dared to look behind him. He regretted that.
The witch’s foot had hit the ground. Edon had just barely outrun her broad, round heel. Gerrol had not been so lucky. Edon swallowed hard at the sight of his subordinate’s arm sticking out from under the troll’s heel, a trickle of blood creeping from out thereunder. He gritted his teeth and fell to his knees, exhaustion hitting him like a sack of bricks. If he had been a few seconds faster…but that didn’t matter anymore. His eyes lingered on the troll’s foot a moment longer, the unimaginably colossal thing sinking just slightly into the dry dirt. It was so broad that their whole battalion could have been stamped on without a second thought. There was no way she had even felt poor Gerrol. He could have been no more than an ant to her. His gaze went up past the foot to the exposed, muscular calf. It ran higher than the tallest towers Edon had ever seen, its toned curves running up to generous hips and the folds of a loincloth like a circus tent. Edon was no longer staring at a witch, but a goddess.
The soldier slapped himself in the face. Stop thinking like that! This was still just some wretched, oversized savage. Nothing more than a tribeswoman with some malicious trickery…nonetheless, a savage who could snuff out his life by taking a step backwards.
A shout from the distance caught his attention. Edon looked over at the troll’s other foot, planted farther from him than the one that had ended poor Tyllen. The she-devil wore a little rope anklet with a tiny fetish dangling from it...and one of his men was clinging to it in a panic, shouting at Edon frantically.
“Bors! Bors, shut up! Do you want to get us killed?” Edon hissed at the terrified archer, but the man was beyond reason. Edon had to admit that the idea must have seemed clever- the safest place to avoid getting crushed would be atop the source, right?
That is, unless she happened to look down.
Edon didn’t move a muscle in the relative concealment of the patch of grass in which he stood. As much as it pained him, he knew it was over for Bors. When those gargantuan, cruel eyes turned downward, he could feel them boring down on her anklet’s nude passenger. A terrible laughter came from the giantess above as a smile crossed those dark green lips.
With the sound of shifting earth, the troll lifted her foot, and Bors with it. Edon watched Bors scream in a panic as the troll dangled him hundreds of feet above the ground. Her broad sole blocked out the sun, casting a shadow over Edon and his hiding spot. Paralyzed by fear, the lieutenant could only watch particles of dirt fall from the savage woman’s filthy undersole while his subordinate dangled helplessly. He felt his knees weaken under him, and he crumpled to the ground, sinking out of sight into the grass. There was nothing, not one thing he could do to stop this. Hell, if this careless goddess set her foot down an inch to the side, he would be crushed, and she wouldn’t even notice. His fate, all their fates, was that of the dirt beneath this woman’s feet, so gargantuan, foreign, and cruel.
Edon’s life would amount to that of an ant, he realized.
Thanjwe would enjoy herself with this one. She peered down at her ankle as she gently shook her calf back and forth, giving the little shrimp the ride of his life. With a flick, she could utterly wipe away his life. She felt a shiver run up her back in excitement. No, this one, she would use to tend to that excitement. He dared defile her person unbidden, and his offering to her would be her satisfaction.
Raising her foot up to her hand, she plucked the little man off her anklet as easily as she might have brushed off a wad of lint. Between a finger and thumb that could crush a legion of his brothers, she held him up to her cold, orange eyes. “Take in everyting ya see,” she commanded him in a tongue he could not understand, “‘cause dis gonna be da last ya ever know.” Her breath washed over him as she spoke, and she watched him recoil in her grasp. With a toothy grin, she turned her eyes back downward to scan the ground as she started taking steps forward. “Jus’ gotta find us a good place to sit before we get...personal...eh, tigah?” She winked mockingly at the terrified man.
It did not take her long to find a “suitable” place to plant herself. A rustle of a leaf gave it away. The troll prodded it out of the way, revealing two shrunken soldiers cowering underneath. A deep murr of pleasure escaped her. “Dis look like a comfy seat, ya?”
The two miniature men shrieked as they saw the gargantuan green ass turning around and descend toward them.
Thanjwe’s aim was dead-on. She felt a ripple of pleasure in her pussy as she pictured the view of her ass plummeting towards her two victims, nothing but a field of her beautiful green rump obscuring the sky, the last thing they would ever see. It was all those insects deserved, after all. More, even.
She sat into the grass with a dull thud and a quiet moan of satisfaction while she adjusted herself. One of the men must have been completely obliterated under there. The other might not have been so fortunate, she realized as she felt a tingling sensation in her asshole. “How sweet’a you boys to help a gurl out,” she purred to the poor fellow in her anus and the terrified man still in her grip. Firmly seated and thoroughly enjoying the activity of the young man beneath her, Thanjwe decided to become more acquainted with the victim in her fingers.
Opening her palm, she let her former pursuer roll onto the broad green surface of her hand, licking her tusks at the sight of his exposed, muscular body sprawling along the creases of her three-fingered hand. A deep chuckle erupted from her as the little idiot tried to run off her hand, dashing madly to the edge of her palm to...do what, exactly? With a flick of a finger he went tumbling back to the soft centre of her skin. It was like an ant desperately trying to rejoin its nest. Men were so dumb when they were panicked, Thanjwe thought. Then again, this one ought to be afraid.
The troll leaned back. There were few things Thanjwe savoured more than the look on the soldier’s face when he saw her pull back the loincloth that covered her puffy labia.
She took the man in two fingers, suspending him by the hair this time. She had to be careful to not crush the poor idiot’s head--she wanted him to know what was going on, after all. Though she was tempted to let her head roll back and bask in the sensation, she kept her eyes on her prey for the greater pleasure of watching him struggle against her gargantuan fingers as she drew him slowly, so slowly, towards the hungry, expectant lips of her sopping womanhood. Watching his laughable efforts to escape her grip only aroused her more. She realized that a spittle of drool was creeping down the side of her mouth, its lips just as eager as those in her nether regions. She could drown him in it, she realized, and her hips twitched involuntarily.
The human came within a half inch of her vagina--she could see his face contorting at the horrendously musky smell down there, and the thought that he might choke on it was positively riveting.
But she paused.
Noticing the respite in his oncoming fate, the soldier paused as well, trying to get a read on what was happening to him now, precisely. A moment later, he found himself rising slowly through the air in the troll’s grip. She was taking her time. He got a full view of the sprawling landscape that comprised her stomach. His whole platoon could have done exercises on her navel comfortably. The ascent continued, giving him a panoramic view of her breasts, those monumental towers that spilled lazily across her chest. Every fuzz and string on the fabric of her upper clothing, scant as it was, seemed gigantic to him. After what seemed like an eternity, her face came into view, and it blocked out everything else. To his horror, the troll opened her mouth and spoke her foreign tongue.
“I oughta wet ju up before stickin’ ja around down dere, ‘eh?”
Her putrid breath engulfing him, the smell of human entrails eminating from those teeth, and the terrible sight of her tongue--that hideously wet organ, so vividly enlarged at this size as to see rivers of saliva flowing throughout it--it was all too much. The human lost the contents of his stomach as Thanjwe brought him closer to her lips. The next moment, that monstrous green tongue engulfed him. Thanjwe lathered the man in saliva, savouring his flavour as her hand massaged her clit gently. Moans reverberated throughout her cavernous mouth. She could taste the human’s fear, literally, and it was delicious.
After her hand was satisfactorily coated in fluid, and the man still seemed conscious, Thanjwe brought the man to her lips in a kiss, gave him a wink, and plunged him downward.
Edon heard the afternoon sky erupt in the sounds of the troll’s orgasmic pleasure. His heart plummeted. The ground shook, and the Alliance officer could only imagine the troll was slamming her feet to the ground as she masturbated furiously with his comrade. The sounds and smell of this wretched witch’s uninhibited pleasure permeated Edon’s world, and he could scarcely muster the will to raise his head and look up. As much as he wished he could climb that monster, put a spear through her throat...he knew it would be for naught. She was utterly engrossed in the pleasure she took from the miniscule man Edon had called a friend as she rubbed him against her clit, giving him a full tour of her folds and positively quaking in ecstasy as she did. Now Edon truly understood this witch’s motivation. Horde or no, there was no warlike prerogative in her actions. She was in this entirely for her own pleasure.
Edon and his men amounted to sex toys for this savage giantess.
This would be his only chance, as much as it shamed him. He had to run while she was distracted, find as many as he could and make a break for it. He didn’t care where he ran, as long as it was away from her. Marshalling what strength was left in his wounded legs, Edon hobbled off in the opposite direction of the giantess and her earthquake-inducing climaxes.
A minute seemed like an hour. The grass got thicker as he moved away from the troll’s lustful revelry, and it even started to provide some shade from the overbearing sun. It was a shame, he found himself thinking, a view of the world from down here would have been almost pleasant under other circumstances. The beauty of grass seemed lost on him when he was at his usual height, and he could only imagine the intricate detail his eyes could detect in a proper tree.
Though it hurt, he had to laugh at himself for such thoughts. Surely he must be near the end, if his mind was making such stupid leaps at a time like this. They distracted him enough, in fact, to almost make him not notice the outstretched splinter-spear he was about to run into. The cry of “Back!” snapped him back to reality, and he fell backwards on his arse in surprise.
“By the Light, I’m sorry, lieutenant! Thought you was another beetle!” cried the spear’s owner while the world spun above Edon.
An instant later, the mahogany-haired visage of Julia, the platoon’s priestess, appeared overhead. While his mind was still out of sorts from the fall, irrational fear suddenly gripped his mind, unused today to hearing the voice of a woman who did not tower over him. His mind’s eye saw that towering freckled foot of the kind woman descending over him, and he thought that after all this the one who might save him would make him but a stain on the bottom of her sandal…
But Julia was no giantess, he realized, his heart slowing a touch as he felt the woman hoisting him upright and dragging him to a twig against which he might lean. He took slow, deep breaths, staring at the woman to remind himself that she was still of his height. “C’mon now, lieutenant, get a hold of yourself,” she urged quietly as golden light began to shine from her hands. Even so, she kept her hands well within the cover of a leaf shred to keep the glow from drawing unwanted attention. It took Edon a few moments to realize she was healing his broken leg.
“J...er, corporal? You made it?” Of course she did. Julia was from the frontier, and no stranger to surviving the unconventional. She had even cut out some of her now-oversized clothing to fashion a makeshift robe for herself. Edon was beyond the point of wishing he had done the same, though.
“Guess so, lieutenant. What happened to you? Got pretty banged up here,” she said, even as he felt the warmth from her ordained hands snap his bones back into place and deflate the painful swelling.
“Stepped on,” he breathed. He closed his eyes to take a breath, but the scene only replayed in his memory before him--the she-troll’s sole swallowing the sky, descending so damn slowly… he snapped his eyes open and peered at her. She nodded in silent consolation, and the spattering of blood he noticed on the front of her clothing told him she was no stranger to the destruction the giantesses were wreaking.
“Jerome, he… when the orc was coming our way, she…” Julia trailed off resignedly, peering down at Edon’s leg as it returned to its former, healthy state. “Well, I’m glad you made it out alright, Ed.” He flexed his knee as she helped him up carefully. “Who’s she got now?”
“Bors,” replied Edon glumly. Julia clenched her jaw, and nodded her head onward.
“We gotta keep going, lieutenant. I can’t raise the dead. Dunno if we can make it outta this one, truth be told, so we oughta make it as far away from her as we can if we hope t’count our losses and make it home, at the least.”
Edon nodded in agreement, and the two resumed a brisk pace in the direction Edon had been traveling.
Home, that was a disturbing thought, he realized. Even if they escaped the lustful whims of these two barbarian women, how on Azeroth did they plan on getting anywhere to get some help? They were in the middle of the Barrens, for heavens’ sake. His mind unhelpfully conjured the image of a hungry hyena staring them down, drool pooling before them, or worse, the filthy paw of a gnoll slamming behind them as it toyed with their dehydrated forms like toys. What if they did come across a camp, only to find upon reaching it that they had come to the wrong side, and the bestial hand of a tauren descending towards them would be their fate? Worse, what if they made it back to the Alliance camp and one of Julia’s healing sisters took them for a pair of insects and…
Edon’s dismal train of thought was thrown off course as Julia yanked him to the side as far as she could hurl him. Not a second thereafter, a tremendous rush of wind and dust blew the two even further as they tumbled into the brush. Edon’s world spun, but even in his dazed state, his heart plummeted as his eyes readjusted to see what it was Julia had pushed him to avoid.
An enormous, bare, orcish foot had slammed down on the spot they had stood a moment earlier. The orcess had found them.
Ozgra flexed her foot, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips as she watched the spot where she had stomped down on the two fleeing humans. The impact of her foot had kicked up a small cloud of dust, and she raised her foot out of the way to look at the shattered bodies once the dust settled. When she realized her strike had missed its mark, her rage was palpable, and her bestial roar sounded over Thanjwe’s microscopic orgy nearby.
The orcess still didn’t really understand what had happened to her. One moment, this sorceress was just helping her do her job and kill some humans--part of what every orc wants out of life, really. Once they were outside, though...what on Azeroth had come over her? The lust she might have felt for a nice, beefy he-orc in the capital suddenly unleashed itself on these...these insects. Her moments of passion, thrusting that doomed little man into her cunt, what release had washed over her in the act! It was as though this witch had opened her eyes to a new world of sexuality--and Ozgra owed it all to her. In truth, she hadn’t even minded when Thanjwe had invaded her folds to remove the puny man-bug inside. The shaman’s hand was far from unpleasant. But now, the orgasm was over, literally and metaphorically, and things felt different. She no longer felt intoxicated by the presence of these human vermin, and yet…
Ozgra got on her hands and knees, sticking her face close to the ground to hunt for the tinies. Now, she didn’t know what she wanted from them, whether to fuck them to death, devour them, crush them, some combination of the three, it didn’t matter. In truest orc fashion, she planned to throw herself at the problem until it solved itself. In this case, these diminutive Alliance had to die, and she wanted all the pleasure she could get from the killing. And she wanted to feel it, with her bare flesh.
These two escape artists weren’t the first to experience Ozgra’s new expression of lust. No, a group of three had been unfortunate enough to encounter her shortly after her cataclysmic climax. The memory hung sweetly in her mind, intertwined with the utter relaxation after her orgasm, one with her uncoiled pleasure.
She had been laying in the grass, staring up at the sky in a stupor when she heard them fleeing. Turning her head to the side, she spotted the three of them less than an arm’s length away. She didn’t know whether she had sat down beside them while she fucked the tiny man unconscious or whether they had sidled up nearby to watch, stupefied. Either option tingled her loins. The first of them hardly had time to scream as she snatched him up by surprise, and the other two rounded about, idiotically gaping up at their companion. Ozgra had brought him up to eye level, her mind wandering to the contented sounds Thanjwe emitted while she ate her fuck-toy. Now she opened her own mouth and tossed the man inside, and she could only hear a frightened yelp from him before he vanished into her cavernous maw.
She could only imagine the terrible sound of grinding earth the little men must have heard as she lazily turned herself around and laid on her belly, face looming over the two escapees while she blocked off their path with her hands and rolled the victim around on her tongue. His taste was...not bad, she had to admit. Like a little chunk of fat from a fresh-cut loin.
As casually as she might have toyed with an ant, she pinned one of the men down with a finger, letting him get a facefull of her flesh. The other, she picked up by the legs and brought close to her waiting mouth. His horror only intensified when she opened her mouth just enough to push its inhabitant to her teeth. The poor idiot must have been conscious still, for she felt him cry out and reach for the man Ozgra held in her fingers. She waited just until she felt the two grab hold of each other before sucking the first man back into her jaws and snapping them shut. She let the petrified survivor watch the lump descend her throat.
But now she’d gone and gotten herself excited again. She rolled the man around in her fingers thoughtfully. She had been planning to indulge her hard-wired thirst for blood-- maybe pull his limbs off like a grasshopper, or let his friend watch her disintegrate him between her thumb and forefinger. But with the loss of the third of their party, she felt almost guilty for separating the last two. Scooping up the other man, she held up the both of them with a lust they knew too well. The sounds of their screams as she lowered them to her waiting cunny still rang in her ears.
And there they remained even now, as she toyed with her two new victims, the man and the woman. She bore a proud helping of hair down there, as any self-respecting orc does, and they’d managed to entangle themselves just so that their struggles felt so very sweet against her pussy. It made her predation on these two all the more enjoyable.
She had taken off her thick-soled boots before making her move on the two. She wanted to feel them on her while she toyed with them, just like she felt the survivors struggling in her cunt.
Now, she had this last pair to herself. A man and a woman, one of them clothed, she saw as she circled them, her monstrous, rough feet with worn callouses crushing the grass around them as they realized their predicament. Each of them could be crushed by a toe, and she had them enclosed by her feet in a perimeter no wider than a coin.
Spreading her toes, she gave them a full view of her feet as she used them to grip a patch of grass and rip it from the ground, a force they couldn’t hope to match. She pressed her foot into the dirt around them as they ran from one side of her stomping-nest to the other, feeling around it with the pleasure she might take from rubbing her feet into a new fur bedding. And with those two lives so precariously near death at her feet, the sensation was all the sweeter.
“Enough foreplay,” she growled, and with a simple flick of her ankle she drew her foot across the two, casting a shadow over their world and brushing her sole against their bodies. The force knocked them over, and Ozgra set her foot atop them, but gently, putting no weight on it--she wasn’t finished with them, not yet. But oh, how they struggled! And how they felt under her sole, those breathing, thinking humans that she might so easily snuff out of existence, leaving only a pair of stains of her foot as a trace of their time on Azeroth!
As she took her foot off of the terrified victims, Ozgra of Orgrimmar made a vow to herself. As of this day, she would put down her axe, and if Thanjwe, if that troll of uncanny powers would have her, she would join her as an apprentice. What good was an axe, after all, when people could be brought so low?
At least, that’s what Thanjwe’s renewed charm would make the orc think.
A smile crossed Ozgra’s lips as her cruel eyes bored down on the two fretting souls at her feet. “I’m done with ya, you can go now,” she chuckled, then made a horrendous noise with her throat and spat down at the two. She grinned as it hit the man dead-on, coating him in her saliva.
With a finality that evoked a scream of terror that even Ozgra could hear, the orcess lifted a foot over the two and slowly let it descend. Deep in her pussy, her prisoners squirmed vigorously as her vaginal walls pulsed with pleasure at the knowledge that the last thing the two humans would see would be her muscular foot consuming their world. When she heard the tiny human woman’s scream silenced as her foot pressed into the ground, she almost doubled over at the spurt of pleasure from her loins, putting even more weight on the two victims below.
Ozgra flexed her toes in the dirt, reveling in the feeling that lives had just been extinguished beneath her foot.
Thanjwe’s sultry voice snapped her out of her stupor, and she spun her head around. “Yeah?” The troll held up a little satchel with a smile and nodded for her to come.
“I found de rest of our little friends. We save ‘em for latah. Ju tink dis was good, I show ya moah back at my hut. Got a raptah to feed, aftah all,” she cackled. Ozgra grinned and nodded, lifting her foot off of her slaughtered victims and following her new mistress into a new chapter in her life that made her womanhood shiver with anticipation.
Edon didn’t know how long he lay there, covered in spit and dirt. Even as pain riddled his body, and as the sun beat down on the now-silent field that had just half an hour ago been the site of a routine mission, he could scarcely muster the will to stand.
He had been sure the orc’s foot would have ended his life. It should have ended his life. Everything had flashed before his eyes, and an unusual sense of calm had washed over him as the wrinkled sole engulfed their vision. The terror and confusion at the unavoidability of it all, the humiliation the sadistic orcess had wrought on him by spitting on him, all of it had melted away, and he had come to a sense of acceptance that this would be his end. It would be unceremonious, but it would be quick, and more importantly, it would finally be over.
Instead, the earth pulled up by the orc’s grass-play had cushioned him while her sole pressed down on his body and into the dirt. He lived, even as a few ribs had surely broken. Julia, though…he had only taken a glance to where poor Julia had stood to know that there was no question about her end.
And now the tormentors were gone. It could only mean that all was lost, and that all his companions were either dead or taken to a worse fate. Tears didn’t even well in Edon’s eyes. He was past that. How could he blame himself anymore? Nothing, nothing in all the world could have prepared him to save himself from this, much less his subordinates. He never saw the end of his platoon taking place beneath the uncaring feet of barbarian giantesses.
This sense of profound loneliness plagued the young lieutenant for some time before he mustered the will to roll himself over with a cry of pain and push himself upright. He looked to the sky. What now? With nobody else around, how did he stand a hope of making it to civilization in this gargantuan wilderness? The Barrens was harsh enough at his usual size, but now…
Edon started walking. He was resigned. Something would be his end here, one way or another. He would make his way back to one of the piles of clothing, and he would wait. Sooner or later, something would investigate, and for better or for worse, he would be found. Though his mind was flooded with heinous images of some mangy gnoll’s delight at finding him, or the emotionless eye of a strider sizing him up before it swallowed him alive, Edon no longer cared. At least he would be prey to what he supposed at this point to be the natural cycle of life in this wasteland. There was an odd sense of peace in that, he thought.
It was slow going, given his injuries, and he took more time yet while he considered his plight. All things considered, he had to be glad none of his limbs were shattered by the impact. He could have been crippled and left to die of exposure. Pondering what could have been as his armour came into sight at last, Edon dared entertain the ridiculous shade of a silver lining at the end of this nightmare. He could almost laugh at his own absurdity!
Then he heard a voice, soft and clear as a clarion.
He never heard them approach. He never had in the past, they moved so silently, so close to him. Edon had all but forgotten that they would be returning, and a surge of hope dizzied him. Towering far above him in all her surreal beauty blown to colossal proportions, lavender-skinned Nysea stood, peering around at the seemingly empty hill, and several other Kaldorei huntresses were visible past her. By the Light, he had a chance! The night elves were expert hunters, there was no doubt that they could spot him, along with any other stragglers the sadistic giantesses had missed. Despite himself, his mind’s eye entered the fantasy of Nysea peering down at him in wonder, her lovely hand reaching down to whisk he and his fellows away to their healers, who would no doubt have some insight into amending this uncanny troll-magic…
As quickly as it came, Edon’s joy turned to ash.
Nysea had not seen him.
Just as he had thrown his arms up to wave for the goddess’s attention, he realized her eyes were not turned towards him, but towards his empty armour. Then came a sight that made his heart plummet.
The violet, bare sole of Nysea appeared over Edon. She was taking a step forward.
Time seemed to stop. It was unbelievable. To have his chance of rescue come so close, only to be snatched away from him… He found his vision wholly comprised of the bottom of the huntress’s foot. The Kaldorei always ran barefoot, yet Nysea’s sole was still somehow pristine, bearing that ethereal beauty the arboreal elves had about them. He had always wondered why the elves had feet that were so much larger than those of humans, proportionally. The foot was long and broad, but it still bore a strange sort of elegance, like a primeval, animalistic power melded with the otherworldly civility, all of which was the domain of the Kaldorei. “Not like this…” was all Edon could think as he saw the naked sole of this supernatural beauty descend upon him. In the last moment, his upthrust hands felt the ball of her foot as it came down on him. It was soft, he thought to himself as it came further down to press against his face, so strangely soft. Edon felt the entirety of his body compressed between the earth and Nysea’s foot before his world went dark.